


fire and ice

by evelyn_hayes



Series: Klance Ficlets [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BOM!Keith, Galra Keith (Voltron), Healing, M/M, Mild Fluff, SO, Self-Acceptance, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, but my nasty shallura heart needed some satisfaction, canon compliant but not really?, i respect kuro and all, just cause kuro, lets just pretend kuro doesn't exist in this fic for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 08:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14160399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelyn_hayes/pseuds/evelyn_hayes
Summary: It’s Kolivan that brings Keith the news.Right now, he doesn’t remember much. He’s still in shock, he guesses. There was a gentle press of a hand against his shoulder, a few quiet words spoken to him, and then Keith had run, ran as fast as he could, sliding into the cockpit of an available ship and launching himself into space, mindlessly searching for the Castle until Kolivan tells him to calm down and sends him the coordinates to the ship.Keith doesn’t remember much, just a flurry of hands over the controls and a desperate need to get to the Castle. Three words, the only thing he can remember right then and right now, repeating and looping in his head until he’s delirious with panic.“Lance needs you.”orrrrr the angsty fic where Earth is invaded by the Galra and everyone's in a panic





	fire and ice

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. This is shit.
> 
> I wrote this through one night of really intense feelings. I'm still struggling with accepting myself and this one was really more self-indulgent, really. (Yes, I write self-indulgent angst.)
> 
> Just in case you skipped the tags: SELF-HARM is in this story. I didn't gloss over that shit. It's stated and talked about.

It’s Kolivan that brings Keith the news. 

 

Right now, he doesn’t remember much. He’s still in shock, he guesses. There was a gentle press of a hand against his shoulder, a few quiet words spoken to him, and then Keith had run, ran as fast as he could, sliding into the cockpit of an available ship and launching himself into space, mindlessly searching for the Castle until Kolivan tells him to calm down and sends him the coordinates to the ship.

 

Keith doesn’t remember much, just a flurry of hands over the controls and a desperate need to get to the Castle. Three words, the only thing he can remember right then and right now, repeating and looping in his head until he’s delirious with panic. 

 

“Lance needs you.”

 

____________

 

The Castle’s bay doors are designed to open and close on a whim, but Keith still finds himself screaming at them to open faster. His docking’s messy, fit for a beginner pilot, but he doesn’t care right now. He doesn’t care. All he needs to do is to get to Lance.

 

It’s been quite the while in space time or Earth time since he’s navigated the winding always of the Castle, but Keith manages it all the same. His memory comes back to him layer by layer, and as the shock fades, Keith is certain of one thing. 

 

Earth has been taken over by a rogue faction of the Galra. They plan to destroy the planet if they find nothing useful on it.

 

Keith has no more ties to the planet. His dad is long gone and the only friend he had in the Garrison is safe on this ship. The invasion still strikes him, making him pause as his mind races through every single human face he’s seen in all his years and knowing that he could never see those faces again. The humans could be eradicated, same as the Alteans long ago. 

 

But Lance is a different story. His entire family was still on Earth. They would be panicking over their current situation and wishing, more than ever, that Lance was home with them. God, how many years had it been since they found the Blue Lion? How many years since Lance left Earth? How many years had the McClains fretted over the loss of their own? 

 

Just _thinking_ about Lance’s situation makes his body empty itself of any and all feeling. If Keith goes that numb about _Lance’s_ problem, what would Lance feel like?

 

Keith steels himself. Lance’s problems are Keith’s problems too. He promised that when Lance’s cross became too heavy to bear, Keith would share the weight.

 

It’s what lovers do.

 

____________

 

He arrives at the bridge later than he hoped for. 

 

Everyone’s a mess. 

 

Pidge is curled up against Matt, crying with a pain she’s experienced time and time again—the loss of a family member. Her shrieks are the loudest and most heart-wrenching. Keith sees the red staining Matt’s eyes and knows that it’s their mom they lost. Coran’s offering Hunk some food goo, but the usually jovial paladin is like stone: unmoving and cold. There are tears, but they’re mechanic, almost as if they freeze the second they touch Hunk’s icy skin. Shiro—god, _Shiro_ —is murmuring to Allura, the two of them huddling together as if they can get back what they lost through physical contact.  

 

There’s no Lance anywhere in the picture. 

 

“Where’s Lance.” God, even _he_ thinks he sounds blunt. 

 

“Keith.”

 

“Where’s Lance, Shiro.” There’s a prickle behind his eyelid. Keith ignores it.

 

There’s a vague motion towards the hallway with all the paladin bunkers, and Keith dashes for Lance’s room without so much of a “thank you”. Keith doesn’t have time. He’ll apologize later. 

 

The lights illuminating the halls blur and Keith realizes it’s not his speed, it’s his tears, it’s his fear that he’ll be too goddamn _late_. It takes him far too late to identify Lance’s door and pushes repeatedly on the open button, patience be damned. It’s his _boyfriend_ in there. 

 

The doors slide open as efficiently as usual. Keith wants to punch it for being unaffected by this. 

 

All thoughts disappear at the sight of Lance. 

 

 _God, he looks so tiny._ Which would technically be an offensive thing to say. 

 

“Wow. Thanks.”

 

Damnit. He said it out loud. 

 

But it’s true. The shadow of the alcove is far more intimidating now, in these dark times, and it casts its reach over all Lance’s beautiful face. The blanket is tangled around Lance’s lanky legs, showing signs of physical strain—possibly from Lance trying to rip it in an effort to materialize his pain. And his face—

 

Keith swallows. He knows two languages and using both is not enough to explain the agony etched on every millimetre of Lance’s face. 

 

“I—Lance.”

 

“What.” The word is so blunt, so unlike Lance. Lance was fluid, graceful with his words, like the water—it was _Keith_ that was supposed to be blunt with his words, clumsy with his delivery, driven by drive alone— _he_ was the fire. 

 

But Lance isn’t fire, not now. Fire is not emotionless. Lance is cold. Lance is ice. 

 

So it was up to fire to thaw the ice. 

 

Keith pushes himself to move. His senses are going haywire, picking up on every single sound, every single pull of his muscles as he walks, every single layered scent, every single detail in the wall. This isn’t new to Keith. Terror does this to Keith. It makes him fall back onto his instincts so much that his senses are sharper than a cat and dog combined, but his mind duller than a goldfish. What does burn is his heart, the only compass in this organized chaos he’s in.

 

Keith is terrified of something. It’s about Lance. But he doesn’t know if he’s terrified of what he might do to Lance, or of Lance’s brittle cold. 

 

Lance shuffles over to make room for Keith on the bed. Keith sits on the edge, not sure of his boundaries. There’s a flash of hurt that flickers over Lance’s eyes at the motion. His sight tells him it’s the sting of rejection. So Keith leans over and kisses Lance on his forehead then pulls him in for a hug. His ears pick up on Lance’s shuddering exhale. He feels Lance’s fingers scrabbling on his back, searching for something to clutch to. He guides Lance’s hand to his hood, now resting on his shoulders. He smells the tang of tears and something a little darker. Wait—

 

Horrified, Keith jumps back. “You’re bleeding.”

 

Lance’s eyes meet Keith’s. He doesn’t reply.

 

“Lance.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“ _Lance_.”

 

“I said I’m fine.”

 

“And I said I wouldn’t cry.”

 

“What?”

 

“Never mind. Bad joke.”

 

Lance laughs at that. It’s quiet, barely there, but the fire in Keith’s heart burns stronger. 

 

“Lance. Please.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re asking for.” The shadow in Lance’s eyes says otherwise. 

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

Lance blinks. Then he drops his gaze down to the blanket tangled around his legs. Keith, confused, follows him—and sees the dark brown staining the thin cloth. 

 

“You were going to ask me ‘why’.”

 

Keith could say no. Because that was the truth. But his heart guides him somewhere else. 

 

Lance’s confusion is palpable when Keith starts pulling off his gloves. Keith looks away from Lance as he rolls up his sleeves. This is a part of him he’s embarrassed of, even in this primal state. Something Keith wants to leave in the past.

 

They breathe together for a few moments. 

 

“I—Keith.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You…how…how long ago?”

 

Keith smiles and grasps Lance’s hands. “I stopped once we started dating.” _Because you showed me that there were things worth living for. I may not deserve you, but my heart won’t let me let go. Thanks to you._

 

Lance stares at him for what seems like a millennia. Keith grows uncomfortable. He can’t read Lance. His head’s processing too fast for Keith’s senses to pick up on anything. His fire is receding in the presence of fear. What if Lance was assuming something else? What if Lance didn’t want to touch a scarred person? What if Lance was scared of Keith now? What if—

 

“I…” Lance laughs. It’s hollow, not the sound Keith hears in his best of dreams. “I feel like a terrible boyfriend now.”

 

That…was not what Keith was expecting. 

 

“I mean. Um. This is serious, Keith. Capital ’S’ Serious. With the trademark logo and everything. And—and I didn’t pick up on it? I didn’t know this happened? I—how—how could I say I love you when I didn’t even know this was happening to you?” The words tumble out of Lance’s mouth like water streaming from a tap. 

 

Keith kisses him to close the tap. 

 

Once he pulls back, he rolls his sleeves back down. “Mostly, I used waterproof, non-smudge concealer to hide these.”

 

“That fucking exists?”

 

Keith smirks. “If you search hard enough.” Lance laughs at that. The genuine laugh. 

 

“I’m not surprised you didn’t pick up on it. I mean, there was a lot of shit going on then. There was the whole Lotor drama right after I was delirious with the need to…uh, you know. it’s hard to say.” Lance nods. “And then Matt told you and you told me to stop thinking like I’m a martyr and think like I’m a hero, and I guess that resonated? And then we started dating and then we had to figure out that whole ‘Jenny’ and ‘Thalia’ nickname to keep us being a thing a secret and then Pidge picked up on our transmissions and then everyone found out and I—” Keith pauses to breathe. His fire’s burning dangerously low. He’ll lose all that’s making him open up to Lance (to _anyone_ for once in his lifetime) if he doesn’t get to the point _fast_.

 

“Lance. I was too busy being _happy_ to be angry at myself. And that’s all thanks to you.”

 

The words sap the last of the energy from him, leaving him with a flicker of a flame that burns in the fabricated name of hope. There is a fear that tamps him down. The fear stops him from doing many things. And at the moment, that fear is not _letting him talk to his fucking boyfriend_. He still has a _point_ to make, goddamnit!

 

“I—you know. Um. That. That I don’t say things that aren’t necessary.”

 

Lance’s eyes are soft. They are melting. Slightly. “So what’s the point, mullet?”

 

Keith pulls at the wrap surrounding his blade’s handle. “You helped me out of all this, indirectly or directly. That doesn’t matter. But I want to help you. Directly. I want to return the favour. You don’t need to tell me anything. Or you can. Whatever helps you cope.”

 

There. The point is made. 

 

The weight of all his words crashes down on him at that very moment. He sags under the weight of them, knowing they are not just words, they are promises, truths of the past and the future. They know no time. They exist beyond time. 

 

And Keith needs to keep up with them. 

 

It doesn’t burden him. It fills him with purpose. What weighs him down is the possibility of rejection. Then the truths he told would have to become lies. Words that were meant to carry meaning, gone. Thrown away to the rubble, their weight and context rotting away with the rest of the shit there. 

 

It’s funny how much that infamous fire of Keith’s dies so quickly.

 

But when Keith looks up, Lance is no longer cold. Each curve and angle are as soft as they were under the famed sunset of Olkarion. His skin seems to be glowing underneath the alcove, the shadows serving to contrast against Lance, to frame him perfectly rather than to suppress him. Everything around Lance is fed life, as water does for nature. 

 

And Keith’s flame.

 

There’s a gentle hand behind his neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Not hard and bruising, like their first kiss was—there is no pent-up need for the other like there was then. Not chaste, like Lance’s quick peck on Keith’s cheek the day after they were uncovered as a couple by everyone—this wasn’t to prove anything, like then. There is passion flowing from Lance, seeping through Keith’s skin and into his heart, and somehow, the water encompasses the ashes of his lost flame and brings it back to life. Keith expresses his gratitude the only way he knows how, by giving back, by whispering soft little nothings in between kisses—but they weren’t nothing, they were more than everything, they were timeless, they were infinite. 

 

“Okay, this is really _really_ fucking good, but you have an injury I’d like to attend to,” murmurs Keith, regretfully moving back to stay out of Lance’s reach. 

 

Lance’s eyes flash in amusement. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ put me in the healing pod. I will get nightmares. And freeze.”

 

Keith laughs, then pulls Lance in for a hug. “I’m not letting you freeze again.”

 

Lance’s body is warm against his. Keith lifts his head a bit to let Lance drop his forehead on Keith’s shoulder. He closes his eyes. The problem was far from solved. They had to get the faction of Galra off of Earth. There was a long way to go until Lance could recover. But right now, he had Lance, safe in his arms. 

 

“I miss them. Mom. Dad. Marco. Luís. Veronica. Abuela. And I didn’t…I didn’t even think to go back and tell them I’m alright.” Lance’s voice is barely a murmur, muffled on Keith’s skin. “I mean, the holographic recordings we sent along with Dr. Holt? That wasn’t my idea. That was Hunk’s. He’s that kind of guy, and I used to be that kind of guy, and I guess I’m scared of changing? And now I feel so bad because I couldn’t say goodbye to them. I feel like I’ve let them down.”

 

Keith strokes Lance’s hair. “You haven’t. You saved me. And at least a thousand civilizations. They’ll be so proud of you.”

 

_I’m so proud of you._

 

Keith groans. “Fuck. We’re dillydallying.”

 

Lance barks a laugh. “How old are you to be using words like ‘dillydallying’?”

 

“18. Fuck you,” Keith replies, standing up and offering a hand to Lance. 

 

Lance takes it. “Duly noted.”

 

Keith blushes all the way to the med bay.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no responsibility over any feelings that have been wrecked by this story.


End file.
